


Good Scotch (Is the Way to Dean's Heart)

by braezenkitty



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canon Compliant, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, M/M, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Winchester Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 04:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10180943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braezenkitty/pseuds/braezenkitty
Summary: A sort of coda to 12x13, inspired by 12x14 andthis post, and set between the two episodes. Dean’s pissed about Mary lying to them and putting lives in danger—for puttingCas’ lifein danger. He’s angry and he needs some comfort and distraction. He also needs another bottle of scotch. Castiel provides.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [agent4hire22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent4hire22/gifts), [poD7et](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poD7et/gifts).



> Thanks to [AnonAnton](http://anonymousantonym.tumblr.com) for being my beta and being awesome as usual <3
> 
> And thanks to [winchester-reload](http://winchester-reload.tumblr.com) and [pod7et](http://pod7et.tumblr.com) for ~~demanding~~ gently encouraging me to write this. This is for you guys  <3

* * *

 

The old Ford complained in squeaks and whines as Cas pulled onto the gravel at the side of the road so he could check his phone. It hadn’t actually rang, or even made a sound, but he felt the urge to check it anyway. Digging it out of his pocket, he turned the screen on and unlocked it just in time to see an incoming message from Dean. It was followed by a second before Cas could tap the message icon to read it.

 **Dean:** Mom’s working for the men of letters

 **Dean:** She went behind our backs and she’s working with those British assholes

Cas exhaled, slumping in his seat as he ran a hand over his face. Mary had seemed a bit distant, even a little secretive lately, but Cas had just chalked it up to her needing some space like she’d told Dean. He never suspected she’d work with the very people who kidnapped and tortured Sam and tried to kill Dean. He tapped in the message box and started typing.

 **Cas:** I’m sorry, Dean

 **Dean:** Yeah so am I

 **Dean:** And so’s mary

 **Dean:** But sorry doesn’t do shit, it’s just words

Cas could almost feel Dean’s anger radiating through the phone.

 **Cas:** And you need more than words

 **Dean:** Of course I need more than words

 **Dean:** Words don’t mean shit in the long run

 **Dean:** Actions are what matter, and her actions?

 **Dean:** Her actions say she doesn’t give a shit about us

Cas frowned. He knew from working with Mary to find Sam and Dean how much she cared about her boys.

 **Cas:** I’m not sure that’s true

 **Cas:** Did she give you a reason for why she’s working with them?

 **Dean:** She said it was for us, for our good

 **Dean:** Like working with them is her idea of helping

 **Dean:** Working with people who fucking tortured Sam is helping

 **Dean:** Who the fuck is that supposed to help?

 **Cas:** I’m sure she has a good reason

 **Dean:** Really, Cas?

 **Dean:** Did you know she’s the reason we ended up at the lakehouse?

 **Dean:** She’s the reason you almost died

 **Dean:** Because the men of letters sent her there

 **Dean:** And she lied to us, to all of us

 **Cas:** Did she explain why?

 **Dean:** She tried, I didn’t want to hear it

 **Cas:** Well, that sounds like you

 **Dean:** What’s that supposed to mean?

 **Dean:** You know what, nevermind

 **Dean:** I gotta go

 **Dean:** There’s a bottle of scotch in the library with my name on it

Cas set his phone down and stared out the truck’s windshield at the clouds in the sky. He just couldn’t help being snippy with Dean lately. He knew when he was about to say something that would piss Dean off, that it was probably rude and better left unsaid, but part of him wanted the reaction and so he ended up saying it anyway. Only the reaction he got was never actually the one he wanted. He picked up his phone and sent another message.

 

* * *

 

Dean tossed his phone on his bed, ignoring the beeping of Cas’ incoming text, and went to the library. He poured himself a glass of scotch, glaring at the more than half empty bottle. It burned going down, and he savored it, slumping into the leather chair by the minibar.

He couldn’t believe Mary. Couldn’t believe Cas. Was everyone fucking insane? Working with the BMoL wasn’t that bad? Almost getting Cas killed would have been justified? For what? So the Men of Letters could have another toy? In Dean’s mind, there was no justifiable reason for putting any of them in that position. He didn’t even want to think about what losing Cas would’ve done to him.

A few glasses later and the bottle was disappointingly empty. He set it on the bar and stalked back to his room in search of his flask but found his phone instead. There were a few missed messages from Cas and one from Mary.

 **Mom:** I’m sorry you had to find out this way.

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. He tapped to go back to his message thread with Cas.

 **Cas:** Dean, you know I’m on your side

 **Cas:** I’m on my way back to the bunker

 **Cas:** Do you need anything?

Cas had sent the last message a good two hours ago, when Dean had been sober. He was pleasantly buzzed now and in need of another drink, so he started typing.

 **Dean:** More scotch

He typed out a second message and hesitated, his thumb hovering over the send button. The reckless, buzzed part of his brain won out and he tapped the button before he could chicken out.

 **Dean:** and you

Dean didn’t even have time to turn the screen off before Cas’ reply popped up.

 **Cas:** I’ll be there in a couple hours

 **Cas:** Drink some water, take some tylenol

Dean snorted. He was fine, feeling warm and loose. He hadn’t yet started to come down from his buzz, and he was pretty sure there was still beer in the fridge.

 **Dean:** What, are you my mom now?

 **Cas:** I just don’t want you to hurt any more than necessary

There Cas went, hitting Dean right in the chest with a straight to the point declaration of his motives. Dean didn’t bother to send an answer, but he kept the phone with him on his trip to the kitchen for beer.

 

* * *

 

Cas unlocked the bunker door and stepped inside, the long box in his hand balanced against his side. The bunker was dark, though it was only ten o’clock and usually either Sam or Dean would still up at this hour, researching possible cases or just killing time in the bright lights of the bunker until they were exhausted enough to fall into a dreamless sleep. Cas closed the door gently behind him and locked it, then made his way down the stairs in the dark, the light from his phone the only illumination. Walking into the library, he flipped on the lights and set the box down on the minibar.

“Cas?” Dean’s gruff voice called out from the hallway.

Cas turned to see Dean standing at the top of the steps in the entryway to the library. His hair was mussed as if he’d been running his fingers through it, his eyes red rimmed and the surrounding flesh puffy.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Didn’t expect you to make it back tonight.” Dean lifted the bottle of beer he’d been holding listlessly and took a sip.

“I said I would,” Cas said. He took a step towards Dean, his fingers twitching with the need to hold him and soothe his obvious distress. “How are you feeling?”

Dean scowled, a frown pulling at his eyebrows and darkening his green eyes. Cas held his tongue as Dean stalked forward, collapsing into a chair across the table from him.

“How’m I feeling?” Dean said with a mirthless laugh, his voice gruff. “I’m just peachy, Cas. Mom’s gone, again, ‘cause I told her to leave. Sam’s been sulking in his room all freakin’ night. And you’ve been gone, per usual, even though you almost died like a couple freakin' days ago.”

Dean fell silent, though Cas could practically see the parade of angry thoughts flash across his face. He knew he should try to keep the peace, but he was tired of walking on eggshells around Dean, scared he’d say the wrong thing and Dean would tell him to leave. He was done holding his tongue.

“So I should just stay here, stop looking for Kelly? Let her and the literal spawn of Satan be free to wander around the world unsupervised?”

“No, Cas,” Dean barked, then pinched at the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath and releasing it. “Just—I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.” Cas felt his anger drain away at the sight of Dean’s slumped form. “What I do know is I could use a stronger drink or something to hit right about now.”

“Oh, I almost forgot.”

“You? Forget something?” Dean snorted.

Cas side-eyed Dean as he walked to the minibar. “I am not infallible.”

“Of course not,” Dean grumbled. “No, you just like to act like it.”

Cas sighed as he lifted the bottle out of its box. Dean was obviously trying to start a fight, and Cas was finding it more and more difficult not to indulge him.

“If I had known you were going to be an ungrateful ass, I wouldn’t have brought you this bottle of—” Cas squinted at the label, “Dewars?”

“What? You got me scotch? Really?” Dean said, rising from his seat and rounding the table to take the bottle from Cas. Cas let it go, fighting the urge to pull it back before Dean could grab it. “Dewars 18, damn.” Dean opened the bottle and took a long sniff and exhaled with a groan. “Oh my God, Cas, I could fuckin’ kiss you.”

Dean froze, the bottle cradled in his hands. His mouth hung open and his eyes widened. “Uh… I mean, not actually, um—” Dean said, fumbling for words. “You know, not for real. I mean, not that you’re not um—” Dean cut himself off, clearing his throat, and stepped quickly past Cas to the bar. “I need a drink. You want a drink?”

Cas thought about it, then shrugged, turning to watch Dean at the bar. “Why not, I’ve never tried scotch before.”

“You’ve been alive for literal millennia, and you’ve never tried scotch?” Dean said with false humor. He kept his eyes glued to the minibar and set two glasses out, filling each with a measure of the amber liquid. When he turned to hand one to Cas, he kept his eyes on the glass. “Heathen.”

Cas’ lip twitched at that. This human calling him—an _angel of the lord_ —a heathen was ridiculous. “Are you saying scotch is a religion?”

“Hell yes, it’s a religion.” Dean said, grabbing the bottle from the bar. He sauntered past Cas, having mostly restored his bravado while pouring the drinks, and set the bottle on the table before sinking into his chair. “If you’ve never had scotch, how’d you know to get the good stuff?”

“I just asked the liquor store clerk what he would buy if he had a decent amount of money to spend. And he said this one was supposed to have honey notes in it, which sounded intriguing. Is it good?”

“Is it good. Jesus, Cas, sit down and try it.”

Cas started towards the chair on his side of the table, then detoured, lowering himself into the chair next to Dean. Dean had his eyes closed, inhaling with his glass held under his nose.

“You gotta start with the nose, give it a good sniff,” Dean said, nodding at Cas’ glass. “Kinda like you sniffed that waitress, don’t think I didn’t notice that.”

Cas was on the verge of rolling his eyes at Dean when he realized Dean wasn’t actually teasing him—he was serious. He may have been smiling, but it was just a facade. Cas frowned. “I was curious. You said she’d smell like food.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t mean you should go and sniff her right then and there,” Dean said, sipping his drink. His eyes slipped closed as he savored the flavor, and Cas stared, mesmerized. He wanted to memorize the way unabashed pleasure looked on Dean’s face for that unguarded moment before his eyes opened and the usual mask returned. “At least you weren’t completely obvious about it. You’re getting better at being sneaky.”

“I’m not sure that should be taken as a compliment.” Cas brought his glass to his nose and mimicked the way Dean had swirled the golden liquid around, then inhaled. He caught the note of honey, as well as the molecular compounds that made up the scent, but he took a sip anyway. It burned his mouth, but that only helped him disregard the individual molecules.

“It’s not bad,” Cas said, tasting honey and vanilla on his breath as he spoke, “but I don’t understand what about it inspires the religious fervor.”

“It’ll grow on you, trust me.”

Cas took another sip, letting the rich liquid settle against his tongue for a moment before swallowing. It did feel pleasant in his mouth, smooth and almost creamy. “I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it, both that it’ll grow on me and that that is a good thing.”

Dean snorted into his glass, taking another sip.

 

* * *

 

Dean giggled as he filled Cas’ glass for the sixth or seventh time. Cas could no longer remember exactly how many there had been. Dean had only allowed himself two glasses while he poured glass after glass for Cas, urging him to drink them faster.

“I believe you’re trying to get me drunk, Dean.”

Dean giggled some more. “Yeah, you caught me,” he said when he caught his breath. “I’ve never seen you drunk though. Or not happy drunk anyway.”

“And do I seem to be happy drunk now?”

“No, you still seem way too sober, while _I’m_ the happy drunk.” Dean sipped his scotch, licking his lips and smiling at Cas. “Drink up.”

Cas took a sip of his drink. He was feeling slightly drunk, but Dean didn’t need to know that just yet. “I think your plan has backfired. I’m glad you seem to be amused though.”

“Do you ever loosen up, Cas? Nine years I’ve known you, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you just let loose and laugh.”

Cas huffed a laugh and shot a wan smile at Dean. “You’re right, I don’t think I ever have.” He examined the liquid in his glass, then tossed it back in one gulp, setting the glass down on the table and indicating that Dean should refill it.

“Hell yes, that’s what I’m talking about.” Dean refilled both of their glasses, though his own wasn’t quite empty yet.

Cas tossed the next glass back and set it down, his body overtaken by a strange shudder that started at the base of his spine and ended with a shaking of his head.

Dean started to giggle again. “Dude, you just shook like a wet dog,” he managed to say, gasping with laughter and throwing his head back.

Cas was mesmerized again. Dean’s head rested against the back of his chair, baring his neck, his eyes squeezed closed as he laughed.

His smile was radiant.

Cas reached for Dean’s glass and took a small sip this time, never taking his eyes off Dean. The scotch took a warm slide down his core and into his belly, spreading out through his limbs. He finally felt loose and relaxed. He couldn’t help but smile in response to Dean’s laughter.

As Dean took a deep breath and slowed to an occasional hiccuping snort, Cas was hit by the urge to reach for him and pull him close.

_I could kiss him right now._

Dean opened his eyes as he lifted his head, meeting Cas’ gaze. Their eyes locked until Cas’ tongue darted out to taste the touch of honey the scotch had left on his lips. Dean’s eyes dropped to track the motion, but darted away as he sat up and cleared his throat, reaching towards the place where he’d left his glass. The glass now in Cas’ hand.

“Ready for a refill?” Dean said gruffly, holding the bottle towards Cas. Cas set Dean’s glass down and slid his own across the table. Dean poured out a measure. “So um, sorry I was a dick earlier,” he said, handing Cas’ glass back to him. Their fingers brushed and Cas’ skin tingled at the contact.

“You were overwhelmed, it's okay, Dean.”

“No, Cas, it's not. That's not a reason to take things out on my best friend.”

“You are forgiven,” Cas said without thought.

Dean huffed a laugh tinged with melancholy. “No matter what shit I pull, you always forgive me. I don't deserve your forgiveness, man.”

“Dean—”

“I mean, don’t I gotta do penance or anything?” Dean joked, though the smile he wore failed to reach his eyes.

“The only penance I’ll accept is you letting go of your guilt and quitting this self-flagellation.”

Dean’s mouth dropped. “I’m not—I don’t—”

“Yes, Dean, you do. Mary leaving and lying to you was not your fault. Sam being upset and secluding himself is not your fault. Me—” Cas hesitated, unsure if he should continue. The warm buzz from the scotch pushed him on. “Me leaving is _never your fault,_ and neither is me almost dying.”

Dean sighed, deflated. “I still feel responsible. For all of it. I should’ve known something was up.” He sipped his scotch and rolled the liquid around his mouth before swallowing. “How did I not know?”

“Mary is good at what she does. She’s a hunter, Dean. And hunters lie—good hunters lie very well.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t even have a clue. I wasn’t even paying attention, I was just too damn happy to have my family with me.”

“Dean,” Cas said, leaning forward and ducking to capture Dean’s gaze. “Stop. I won’t have you feeling guilt for something you had no control over.” He sat back with a sigh, dropping his eyes to his glass and swirling the liquid around. “If anyone is at fault here, it’s me. I can sense when someone is lying to me, I should have felt it.”

“Cas—”

“I won’t let you carry this guilt, Dean,” he said, cutting Dean off, his tone harsher than he intended. Their eyes met again and Cas softened his voice. “Not alone.”

Dean looked away first, staring down at his glass. “Yeah,” he said, taking a sip and nodding, “yeah, okay.”

They sat in silence, Dean no doubt lost in his thoughts. The low hum of the bunker’s ventilation system was the only sound. Cas swirled the scotch around and watched the lights play off the glass.

He realized how late it had gotten when Dean yawned, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. “You should get some sleep, Dean, it’s late.”

“I still have scotch in my glass, Cas,” Dean said, holding his glass up and huffing a quiet laugh. “I’m a poet and I didn’t know it.”

Cas raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t look at me with that tone of eyebrow,” Dean said, a small, crooked smile spreading across his face.

Cas frowned. “How can an eyebrow have a tone?”

Dean laughed, louder this time. “Dude, your eyebrow has a fuckin’ tone. Like a ‘don’t fuck with me or I will smite your ass’ tone.”

“I don’t think I _could_ smite your ass, or anyone’s anymore.”

“Hey, just because your mojo’s not at one hundred percent doesn’t mean you can’t be a badass motherfucker and metaphorically smite someone.”

Cas chuckled and sipped his drink. “I suppose so.”

“Yeah, well I know so. And so does your eyebrow,” Dean said with a smirk. Cas raised his eyebrow again, purposely this time, and watched as Dean’s smirk morphed into a wide grin.

“See? You know what you’re doing.”

Dean leaned back in his chair, grinning lazily and stretching his legs out. One of them brushed against Cas’ leg and Dean didn’t jump away like he normally would have. Cas grinned back, glad Dean seemed to have moved past his melancholy and returned to being happily buzzed. He was beautiful all the time, but especially when he wore this look.

_I should kiss him right now._

He licked his lips unconsciously, and his stomach swooped at the flare of heat evident behind Dean’s eyes as his gaze flicked down to track the movement. Cas leaned forward to set his glass on the table, then took Dean’s glass from his hand and did the same.

“Hey, I wasn’t—”

Dean’s words were cut off by a gasp as Cas grabbed Dean’s chair by the armrests and pulled it to him, Dean’s thigh pressed fully against his own.

“Cas? What are you—”

Cas raised an eyebrow and watched Dean’s face for any sign that he should stop as he grabbed Dean’s hands.

“—doing?” The last word was almost a whisper, and Dean’s eyes widened as Cas stood, tugging on Dean’s hands. Dean stood, allowing Cas to pull him up without argument.

“I’m going to kiss you now, Dean,” Cas said, slipping a hand around the back of Dean’s neck. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

Dean’s eyes widened even further, the pupils expanding as he glanced down at Cas’ lips and wetted his own. Cas waited until Dean brought his eyes back up, searching for the fire he’d seen there a few minutes earlier. His stomach clenched. He’d dreamed of doing this for so long, and he needed to make sure Dean wanted it as much as he did.

The fire was there. Dean’s green eyes blazed with a golden heat as he looked back at Cas. He nodded, and Cas closed the distance between them, all conscious thought lost as he pressed his lips to Dean’s for the first time.

 


End file.
